


x marks the spot (where we fell apart)

by catching_paper_moons, preciousthings



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Getting Back Together, Heist, M/M, Maybe The Real Heist Was The Friends We Made Along The Way, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28032693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catching_paper_moons/pseuds/catching_paper_moons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciousthings/pseuds/preciousthings
Summary: “Don’t write it off,” Alex says, and Liz is so relievedsomeoneis coming to her defense, even if it’s someone who already knew beforehand. “Liz and Kyle have ideas, and there are people in this room with literal superpowers. It’s pretty much our only option.”“Our only option?” Isobel scoffs. “What are we,Ocean’s Eleven?”
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, side Max Evans/Liz Ortecho
Comments: 24
Kudos: 65
Collections: Roswell New Mexico Big Bang 2020





	x marks the spot (where we fell apart)

**Author's Note:**

> from a: this has been a journey but i could not have done it without g; we have talked about writing a fic together for a very long time and i am so glad that this one is the one we actually ended up finishing. thanks for being the best co-writer a lazy author could ask for and also just the best friend. also thank you to our incredible betas and our AMAZING artist who helped bring two scenes from this fic to life in ways i never imagined. 
> 
> from g: we started this in july, and by now this fic has taken on a life of its own and literally wouldn't have been finished without the support of each other and our LOVELY artist. thanks as well to our lovely betas who we trusted very much and didn't let us down. we hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> the title is from 'getaway car' by taylor swift, because every heist needs a good getaway driver. thanks rosa ortecho!

##  _alex_

Ever since aliens became a part of Alex’s daily life— and he’s really not sure when he started referring to all of that so casually— he’s had to adjust his approach to most things. What used to be _think first, act second_ became _act first, consider possible consequences after you’ve caught your breath again_ because whatever’s going on is usually too urgent to do any real analysis beforehand. 

He’s gotten himself in and out of so many situations that he couldn’t have imagined being in at all when he got back to Roswell after his third deployment. If you’d told 17 year old Alex that over the next ten years he’d lose part of one leg, never get over Michael Guerin and find out that Guerin’s an alien who survived a UFO crash over 70 years ago and literally hatched from a pod, Alex would have been more inclined to believe the first one before he believed the third. 

(The second was kind of an inevitability regardless of anything else.)

It sort of makes sense, in a fucked up kind of way, that after a pretty slow period—rather, no imminent outside threats or heroic actions gone wrong— something would come up like this. It’s been too quiet for too long, and Alex had suspected something. Now, it’s pulled him so far away from his friends, from the people he actually cares about, the family he’s made for himself. He followed this lead regardless of consequences, and only thought occasionally about how it might look to other people. And tonight, finally, he confirmed what he’d already sort of known from the beginning. 

Once he’s managed to catch his breath and process what he’s learned, he calls Kyle.

(Alex thinks back to the week after CrashCon. Kyle said Flint would live to become a new version of their dad. In that moment and in this one, he so badly wanted Kyle to have been wrong.) 

“Hey,” Kyle says, picking up on the third ring. “Everything okay?” 

“Are you busy?” 

“No, I’m at home, why—”

“Project Shepherd 9-1-1. Can you meet me at the bunker?” He’s already halfway there, having made a U-turn in his own driveway once he figured out what he needed to do. 

“Alien stuff?” Kyle asks. 

“Alien stuff,” Alex confirms solemnly. “I’ll explain when you get there. Everyone’s fine right now but, uh, it could get bad.” 

“‘kay,” Kyle says, muffled. “I’m heading out now. I could be there in fifteen minutes, probably.”

“Don’t speed.”

“Twenty, then. I’ll see you.” Kyle hangs up, and Alex’s car is filled with silence again. 

There’s something oddly comforting about driving down these dimly-lit roads this late at night. No one’s around as far as he can tell; he’d notice more headlights cutting through the dark if there were. It’s just— quiet. For the first time all day, he can actually hear himself think. 

He thinks about what it had been like to chase this lead, the things he had to give up and miss to get to the point he’s at right now. 

The pod squad had turned 30 a few weeks ago, and Isobel made it pretty clear that his presence was mandatory at the Wild Pony the night they’d all decided to celebrate. He couldn’t— it was too risky because he thought he was close then. He’d screened enough calls from Michael that he’d stopped calling altogether, cancelled on Liz and Maria one too many times, all to prove something. 

And now he’s proved it.

There is a part of him that wonders if the distance he’s had to keep lately is the kind of thing he can’t come back from. It’s one thing to be worlds away, it’s another to be twenty minutes up the road ignoring texts and calls by choice. 

He wonders if he’s run out of second (or third or hundreth) chances, and hopes that once he has a chance to explain himself, he’ll be able to fix some of the things he’d ruined.

Kyle picked up. That has to count for something, right? 

##  _liz_

Liz hears the front door of the Crashdown open before she sees the person opening it. 

“We’re closed!” she calls out from the kitchen. 

“Closed for your best friends?” Kyle says, and Liz looks up to see Kyle and Alex standing near the entrance. Alex is holding a laptop, which is the first sign to Liz that they’re here for a lot more than just friendship or free food. 

“Never for you guys. You want anything?” Liz asks them. 

“I’m good,” Alex says. At the same time, Kyle shakes his head. 

Liz comes around into the restaurant. Before either of the guys can say anything else, Liz pulls Alex into a tight hug. It’s just nice to see him; he’s been so distant lately. She tells him that before she lets go. 

“I can actually explain some of that now,” Alex says. “That’s why we’re here.” 

The three of them slide into a booth, Liz across from the other two. Alex opens his laptop and types a few things before turning it around so Liz can read the screen. It’s a document with some information about a project Flint Manes is working on. On that alone, she can’t gather much about it, but she knows enough about Flint’s work with Deep Sky and elsewhere to know this is hardly a good thing.

They talk her through what it all means once she’s had a chance to absorb the words on screen. It’s obvious to her immediately that this is a much bigger problem than she’d anticipated when she first saw them in the diner. The last time someone that dangerous had the kind of materials Flint has, CrashCon almost blew up. 

“And here I thought since things have been pretty quiet, I could finally go back to normal science,” Liz says, laughing. She’d only been gone a few months before some panicked calls from Isobel brought her right back to Roswell. The truth is, she was always going to care about Max, always going to love him. It felt like an easy decision to come home to help fight off Mr. Jones; she hadn’t expected the decision to stay here again to be that simple, too, but it was.

“You’re one of the only people we could come to, Liz,” Alex says. “We wanted to tell you before we told everyone—” 

“Because we don’t really have a next step,” Kyle cuts in. 

“I do have an idea,” Liz says carefully. “It’s going to sound crazy, but just trust me. I think it’ll work.” 

After their plan is semi-formulated and they all make a few calls, it takes about twenty minutes to get everyone on Team Alien and Team Human to assemble at the Crashdown. Liz changes out of her uniform upstairs and then disappears into the kitchen; Rosa helps, blending milkshakes and making a few batches of fries. By the time they’re done, there’s still no sign of Michael. 

“Have any of you texted him?” Rosa asks, unhelpfully. Liz loves her, but sometimes it’s painfully obvious she was stuck in a pod for ten years.

“We _all_ texted him,” Isobel snaps. “He’s not answering.”

“I also called him three times, so if he hasn’t gotten the message by now, I’m out of options.” Max sighs, dramatic. “If only he was telepathically connected to me and Iz.” 

“I could call him again?” Liz offers, and then the door to the Crashdown opens with a bang.

“Oh. You’re literally all here.” Michael has the audacity to look surprised, as if everyone hadn’t been trying to reach him for thirty minutes at _least._ Liz throws him an unimpressed look, and he has the good grace to look sheepish.

“No shit,” Rosa says. Everyone turns their heads to look at her and she throws her hands up, as if she’s saying _What? You’re all thinking it_. 

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not get any of our calls?” Max asks. 

“I sent you, like, _thirty_ texts, Michael,” Isobel adds. “I’m pretty sure every person in this room at least triple-texted.” 

“Oh, uh. Sorry?” Michael holds up his phone in a silent apology. “It’s been dead for a few hours. So no.”

“How did you even find us, then?” Max asks, and six pairs of eyes snap to Michael, awaiting his response. Michael shrugs.

“I couldn’t find you anywhere else,” is all he offers, and Isobel snorts. “Anyone going to tell me why every person I know is in the same room at—” Michael pauses to check the clock hanging on the back wall of the restaurant. “1 a.m.?” 

“Yes, hi,” Liz stands up from where she’d slid into a booth next to Kyle, which prompts Michael to sit down in a chair close to the door. She nods, definitively. “I’ve gathered you all here tonight because Alex found something interesting and _potentially_ dangerous and we need to do something about it.” She’s holding the legal pad she’d grabbed from behind the counter when the guys had first gotten there, and she hasn’t added much to it since. But the general _idea_ , what she needs them to know _now,_ is all written down there. 

“Oh, we’re talking to Alex again?” Michael snarks, and aside from the look Alex gives Liz, the comment goes ignored. 

Alex lowers the screen of the laptop in front of him when he starts to speak. “The Sparknotes version? My brother, Flint, is hoarding alien tech. The longer version is that he wants revenge because he _still_ thinks an alien killed our dad, not Greg, _and_ he’s working on some kind of weapon using something that looks like the console in Michael’s bunker. There’s a new structure that went up at the site of Caulfield prison; I have reason to believe Flint is using it to work on this tech.”

There’s a clamor of voices, both questioning and concerned, but Isobel’s cuts through the clearest. “What could he possibly have that’s so important? How did he get it?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out, but I think Flint is still too suspicious to let me get that close.” Alex sighs. The looks he’s getting are dubious at best, and he shakes his head. “I’ve seen pictures, though. It looks like a sword, maybe? Like if a lightsaber blade were flat.” 

“Liz, how do you know any of this is even _true_?” Rosa turns to face her. Liz steels her with a look _,_ and Rosa shrugs. “What? I’m part-alien, this is about me, too.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Max says. Heads snap to him, and he blinks. Thank _god_ for her boyfriend. “I— I had a vision when I was taking the antidote before CrashCon and I saw it? The sword. It was— Isobel’s mom had it. It’s the same kind of tech Liz and Michael have studied, I think, the kind of material that we had to disable at CrashCon. And it cuts things.”

Everyone starts to talk over each other again, more questions and comments, but Liz can’t make any of them out. To stop them, she just yells, “Guys!” The yelling stops, and Kyle takes advantage.

“Liz has a plan,” he says, placating. “Just— stop screaming at each other and listen to her.” 

“Thank you, Kyle.” She smacks the legal pad, and Maria jumps. “Alright. We’ve established that this… sword thing could be bad, and we know Flint has it. And we _definitely_ need to get it back, so welcome to the first meeting of our newly formed heist team!” She smiles, big and bright, only to be met with what feels like literal crickets. 

“Don’t write it off,” Alex says, and Liz is so relieved _someone_ is coming to her defense, even if it’s someone who already knew beforehand. “Liz and Kyle have ideas, and there are people in this room with literal superpowers. It’s pretty much our only option.” 

“Our _only_ option?” Isobel scoffs. “What are we, _Ocean’s Eleven_?”

“Honestly…” Max says, but Isobel shoots him a look, and he goes silent.

“Well, I’m in.” Michael shrugs. Liz gives him a look that borders on incredulous, but he just grins. “Honestly, I’m just looking for something to do.” 

Isobel sighs. “If Michael’s in, you can count me in, too.” She looks long-suffering about it. Liz chooses to ignore that.

“Wait,” Maria says. “Why am I included in this?” 

“Because you’re my best friend and Alex’s best friend, and also an _alien_.” Maria looks to the floor, but Liz follows her gaze until Maria meets her eyes. “We need you just as much as we need everyone else, Maria.” 

“ _And_ we need a distraction,” Kyle says. Maria’s eyes widen, and he grins.

“Right. On that note, Liz has some ideas for our roles. Just, you know, your typical heist stuff,” Alex adds. 

“Just your typical heist stuff, he says,” Michael parrots. “When was the last time any of us pulled off a heist?”

“I’m ignoring that,” Liz says out loud, and Michael snorts. “Kyle gave me the title Mastermind, which feels a little sinister, but I like it. He’s my second in command and our team medic.” 

“Oh, _Kyle’s_ your second in command,” Max starts, but one glare from Liz shuts him up quick. “Fine. That’s fine! He’s gonna do great!”

“Max, we’re thinking you’d be, like, the muscle?” Max’s expression morphs from casual jealousy to confusion. Liz sighs. “Which is like, the big guy, who carries heavy objects, and acts threatening to people who could expose our cover, and gets into fistfights. You know. Muscle guy.” She smiles, encouraging, but Max just frowns.

“We’re talking about _this_ Max? Right next to me?” Isobel laughs. “Yeah, sure. ‘Threatening’ my ass.”

“I thought we left Mr. Jones in the past,” Max sighs, dejected, and Michael laughs again. Liz can’t tell if he’s into this or way out of it, but his interjections aren’t helpful.

She continues on. “Isobel, since you can get inside people’s minds _and_ you’re a people person, you’re our Smooth Talker.” At that, Isobel makes a face, but doesn’t interrupt. “We also need you to figure out what we’re wearing. Michael, you’re better with tech than any of us, so you’re our gadgets guy. We also might need you for some breaking and enterings.” 

“Great, get the guy with the petty crime rap for your breaking and entering needs. Got it.” Michael winks, though the feeling is hostile. Liz smiles at him, sugar-sweet, and moves on.

“Like Kyle said, Maria is our distraction. Wherever Flint is the night we do this thing, she has to keep him there. Alex is our hacker, obviously. And Rosa?” Liz snaps her fingers and points. “We need a getaway driver.” 

“I’m _literally_ an alien, Liz! You want me to just drive a van?!”

“Rosa,” Alex says, and she turns her head to face him. “We need to build a scale model of the facility my brother’s using. I could use some help with that, too.” 

Rosa nods furiously. “Awesome. Cool. I am going to build the best scale model of a shady government building any of you have ever seen.” She smirks, more content now. “Speaking of that, where exactly am I going to build a scale model of a shady government building? Because I can’t really do that here.”

“I have two bunkers?” Alex offers. “One is under Kyle’s dad’s cabin and the other is the old Project Shepherd headquarters. I can reprogram the security for the one on base.” 

“Mikey, you have a bunker, don’t you?” Liz asks, even though she already knows the answer to the question. 

“Are you _offering_ my bunker?” 

“I don’t know, are _you_ offering your bunker?” 

“Great, so we have three bunkers,” Isobel says. “Anyone else have a secret bunker we can use? Or are we all out of options?”

“The bunker on base is the biggest one,” Kyle cuts in. “I mean, I haven’t seen Michael’s bunker, but that one should probably be our headquarters.” 

“Our headquarters,” Maria mouths, incredulous.

“We can’t plan a heist out in the open,” Liz says. “So the bunkers are good, actually. Kyle and I are going to take a few days to get this thing going, and then we should meet up there to go over our plans. In the meantime, I’m sure Michael wouldn’t mind if Alex and Rosa got a head start on that model in his bunker.” 

“No, be my guest,” Michael says. It sounds sarcastic, but he looks genuine, so Liz will take it. “Guess it would be nice to have some human interaction.”

“So, heist squad,” Max says, standing. “We’ll reconvene in a few days?”

“I’m making a group chat,” Isobel says, already tapping her phone screen. After a second, everyone’s phones vibrate simultaneously. 

Rosa frowns. “You can’t call the chat ‘heist squad.’ That’s too obvious.” She shakes her head, tapping her own phone a few times. “There,” she adds, looking back up, smug. 

Liz unlocks her phone and opens the group chat to a message from Isobel: _hey heist squad_ 😉. Below it, Rosa’s named the conversation _‘Definitely Not A Heist Squad’_. Michael and Alex let out a simultaneous laugh, and then go silent. Isobel looks between them with a grimace, and Liz claps her hands together.

“Perfect,” Liz smiles. “Okay, uh, meeting adjourned?” 

Everyone lingers for a few minutes, standing up like they’re all about to leave but sticking around to talk more; it’s not even really about the plan anymore. Liz is struck, suddenly, by how much she missed this. It doesn’t happen often enough, all of her favorite people together in the same room at the same time.

This is her sister, her best friends, her _Max_. They make a pretty good team, she realizes, and with that, she finally relaxes, letting some of the tension drop out of her shoulders. She knows they’re going to be totally fine, whatever the outcome.

“I hate to be the one to break up this party, but I actually have to go close the bar,” Maria says eventually. Liz moves to hug her. 

“Thank you for being here,” she whispers. 

“As if I’d let you pull off a heist without me.” 

Kyle follows soon after; he’s on call early tomorrow, so Liz doesn’t really blame him. She’s busying herself cleaning up empty glasses and half-finished plates when she hears Alex call Michael over to the booth where his laptop is still set up. He’s leaning against the table when she looks up, just in time to see Michael glance in Alex’s direction on his way out the door, trailing behind Isobel. 

Okay, so maybe it’s not _totally_ fine. It’s still fine enough that she’s not going to worry _too_ much— she’ll do a perfectly normal amount of worrying. 

She’s in the kitchen when Max comes up behind her, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her against his chest. She laughs, surprised. 

“There’s my secret genius,” he says. 

“Hey.” Liz turns around in his arms to face him. “There is nothing secret about this genius.” 

“My bad.” Max leans in to kiss her and she melts into it. It’s exactly what she needed after the day she’s had. 

“Mmm, hi,” she mumbles, resting her forehead against his. “Your genius needs a nap.” 

“At this point, it’s just going to bed.” 

“Take me home, Max Evans.” Liz lifts her head to glance around the kitchen. “I should finish cleaning up first, though.” Max lets her go when she reaches for a towel; she smacks his leg with it, smirking.

“Every time I try to help, you tell me I’m making more of a mess.”

“Because you do!” Liz turns to face the sink and turns it on. Max leans against the counter next to it, content to watch. She makes quick work of the glasses and plates, rinsing them and sticking them in the dishwasher for tomorrow morning. 

“You really think this is going to work?” Max asks her. 

She nods. “Weirder things have happened. I like our odds.” 

##  _michael_

The thing about this whole mess is that Michael initially had written off this heist shit as some kind of joke. He should’ve known better; Liz Ortecho does not _joke_ about these things. And now he’s stuck in the Project Shepherd bunker, listening to idle chatter as Liz and Valenti mutter to themselves in front of a, quite frankly, spectacular murder-board looking spread, all because he’d been the first to agree to steal alien tech from Flint Manes.

“I mean, what is the end game here?” Isobel says into his ear. “‘Team bonding?’” Her air quotes exaggerated by her eye roll catch Max’s attention, and he raises an eyebrow at her. She puts her hands up. “I surrender, deputy,” she drawls in a thick, country accent, and Max shakes his head, unamused.

 _“Alright,_ Iz, I hear ya.” He runs a hand through his hair, fluffing it up. “Let’s just hear what they have to say, okay?”

And miraculously, they both manage to be quiet long enough to hear what exactly it is they’re looking for. There’s a special _alien weapon_ and Flint has it, so nothing new there, but now they’ve got a location (a government owned warehouse, of course), and actual things to do, and it’s starting to feel more real. Isobel is revitalized, Rosa looks pumped, if still a bit mad her only role during the operation is to be the getaway driver, and everyone else is nodding, like they’re all in. And Michael is, too. All in, that is. It’s just— 

Alex is standing there, at the front of the room, looking up at the monitors, and Michael knows Alex wouldn’t actually do anything to hurt them. Michael _knows._ But does he, really? Because Alex has always warred with his duty to his family versus his duty to his friends, and that feeling in Michael’s gut that tells him that Alex’s duty to his family will always win out becomes more pronounced the longer he stares.

Alex had said once that Michael was his family. But they were in an old prison that was about to blow up, and Alex would’ve said anything to get him out of there. And Michael _can’t_ forget that. 

(Even if Alex is _his_ family.)

“You’re good with all of this, right, Guerin?” Valenti’s asking him, and Michael blinks, shaken from his stupor. “All of the B&Es, your role in it all?”

“Yes, _Valenti,_ I am super good.” Michael smiles, all jagged edges, and Valenti narrows his eyes before leaving him alone. Michael plays with a pencil with his mind while he thinks.

This warehouse… if it’s government owned then Alex will be able to get them in, but Michael will have to hotwire shit with his mind _and_ his hands, and he’s got to get prepared to do all of that. He notices that this whole thing hinges on every little thing going right; if one thing is out of place, their whole plan crumbles. He wonders if Liz has thought about that, if Valenti has, but he shakes his head. Liz overplans _everything._ If this is their best version of the plan, one that involves eight thousand little moving pieces that all come together in three weeks while they steal a piece of alien tech right out from under the government’s nose, then this is actually more serious than he thought. The pencil shatters, causing Isobel _and_ him to jump.

“What are you doing, Guerin?” Maria asks, and she sounds exasperated, like she wasn’t being paid enough to be here. He wants to tell her she isn’t being paid at all, but it’s unfair to put words in her mouth. 

“Fucking around,” he says, smiling at her, and she rolls her eyes. He knows he’s being prickly today, but—

He huffs. If Alex ever wants to explain his thought process, here, then maybe Michael will be less prickly. For now, he’s going to be as prickly as a fucking provoked porcupine. 

Valenti gets everyone’s attention again, and Liz sighs, so Michael sits up to pay attention. “Look, this is going to be dangerous. I know I’ve just laid out a fucked up plan for you.” She shakes her head, and Michael catalogues fear in her eyes. His shoulders drop. “But we need to be good about this. It’s going to be ridiculous, because we’re _totally_ going to _Ocean’s Eleven_ this shit, but it’s also gotta be the best laid plan of our lives.” 

“And for now,” Valenti continues for her, “Liz and I have been up for three days straight. So no one speak to me unless it’s a literal health crisis.” He waves, grabbing his to-go cup of coffee that _has_ to be cold by now, and climbs out of the bunker.

Michael laughs to himself, if only to make himself feel better. This whole thing is nerve wracking, and he’d never doubt Liz and her giant brain, but this plan is too tightly wound not to fall apart. He shakes his head, begging off to go to work, and Isobel gives him an odd look before he leaves the bunker.

His drive back to the junkyard feels long as he thinks and thinks and overthinks this plan. It’s good, and Liz and Kyle are both so type A that he knows this is all they could come up with. But that doesn’t make him feel any better. Heist movies seem fun; pulling one off in real life seems impossible. And it doesn’t help that he’s still suspicious of why this is only coming up _now,_ after Alex had essentially dropped off the face of the planet. He’s atoning, of course; Isobel has forced him into brunch every Saturday, and Liz, Rosa, and Maria have stolen his Friday nights, but Michael can’t help but think there’s something more.

His phone beeps at him. 

**from: Alex Manes, 8:32 am**  
_It was good to see you today._

Michael sighs. Time to keep moving.

##  _rosa_

Let it be known that Rosa is only in Michael’s weird bunker because Alex asked her to be, okay? He needed her help, so she’s here, underneath Sanders’ Auto Yard, and it is for Alex only. Like, it’s fine that Michael is here too, she doesn’t hate him, but she would’ve rather worked on this model of the warehouse in a more open, spacious place. Somewhere with windows, maybe.

“Can you hand me the glue?” Alex asks absentmindedly. Rosa throws it to him, and continues sketching. She hasn’t done much beyond the initial blueprint; Alex is so anal retentive about things sometimes that he just kind of takes over. She doesn’t mind. She’s fixing things on her first blueprint draft and also sketching Michael as he pores over some sort of ear piece they’ll be able to use on the day they do this thing. He’s so still he makes it easy.

“Do you need help?” It’s the fourth time she’s asked, and it’s also the fourth time Alex has shaken his head. She smiles; when he gets like this she’s reminded of the boy she knew before she died, not the one she met when she came back. He stands a little taller and a little more hardened, but as she looks at him now, laser-focused on gluing a piece in just right, tongue sticking out, eyes almost glazed over, she feels an immense fondness for him. She decides to tease him, just a little. “You know, if I wanted to get out of the house to sit in a dark room I could’ve just gone to one of those deprivation chambers, or whatever.”

Alex sits up straight, brows furrowed. “What?”

“Do you even know what a sensory deprivation chamber is?” Michael asks, and Rosa waves him off. She’s read stuff, okay? The internet is fucking wild these days. 

“I’m just saying, Alex. You’ve practically done everything. You look like you’re about to _die._ Let me help.” She smiles, and Alex flushes, looking sheepish. “You get focused, you know?”

“I’m sorry.” He stands up, wincing, and her heart twinges as he compensates for his leg. “I asked you to help and I’ve been ignoring you.” 

“Just let me help now?” she offers, and Alex smiles, offering her a piece of cardboard. She takes it, sitting next to him, and they get to work. Michael leaves a few minutes later with a promise to return with food, and Rosa watches the tension drain from Alex’s shoulders.

“Oh, is that a thing?” she asks. Alex furrows his brows, and she points to where Michael just left from. “What, did you guys like, make out or something?”

Alex blinks. “Are you fucking with me?”

Rosa snorts, gluing her 3D render of a chair into an upper level room in the warehouse. “Yes, I’m fucking with you.” She sits up, brushing her hands together. “Is he giving you the runaround? Do I need to smack some sense into him?”

Alex laughs, shaking his head, and he seems genuine. “No, nothing like that.” He removes his hand carefully from a piece he was gluing down, and it pops up anyway. He frowns. “I think he’s still mad. Because I disappeared.”

“So? It’s not really his business.” Rosa’s vehemence seems to shock Alex, but he shrugs, and she sighs. “Alex.”

“Look,” he starts, and then he goes silent. Rosa’s good at waiting him out, so she does, moving to edit her blueprint. She sketches and erases for a long time while Alex surveys the model, gaze appraising. He sighs. “Michael and I just hurt each other. I think this was icing on the cake.”

Rosa hums, not looking up from her sketch. “Sounds like bullshit.”

 _“You_ sound like bullshit,” Alex shoots back, and Rosa looks up, grinning. _That’s_ the Alex she’s missed. He sinks back into his chair, looking at her, and he looks so young that her heart aches. “I don’t know how to make him less mad.”

Rosa wraps an arm around his shoulders, and he leans into her, head on her shoulder. It’s comforting; so much can change in ten years, but this didn’t, and she’s grateful. “Maybe he just needs time.”

Alex frowns, but he nods. “Yeah, maybe.” He sits up, then, and the opening to the bunker slides away. “Guerin?” he calls, and Michael’s head pokes in.

“Hi.” Michael waves a bag in their direction, and it smells like tacos, which makes Rosa want to kiss him for a minute. “Can someone grab this? For some reason they gave me a drink carrier, which sucks.”

“Got it,” Rosa says, hopping up to grab it from him. She sticks her head in and the smell of barbacoa greets her, and she groans. “Ugh, my hero.”

Michael snorts, setting the drink carrier down in front of Alex. “I got you diet, you still drink that, right?” he asks Alex, and Alex’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he nods. Rosa grins, sharp, and she distributes the tacos amongst them, Michael taking his over to where he’d been tinkering earlier. 

“See?” Rosa says quietly, and Alex tilts his head in question. “All he needs is a little time.”

Alex smiles, so maybe today wasn’t a wash after all. 

##  _alex_

“You sure you guys are good here?” Liz asks, gathering up some papers from her work station, shoving them into a folder, and then shoving that folder into her bag. Across from her, Alex looks up from his own work station: a work issued-laptop he’d hacked, his personal laptop, and a bigger monitor he’s using to keep an eye on the security system in Flint’s workspace. 

“We’re not children, Liz,” Michael interjects. He’s on the other side of the room tinkering with a pair of earbuds. Alex isn’t entirely sure what he’s doing with them, honestly. 

“Mmm, you sure about that, Mikey?” Liz shoots back, mocking his tone. 

Alex wonders if he’s missing something. 

They’ve been working down in Michael’s bunker for the better part of the day— him and Michael, Kyle briefly before his shift, Liz in between her actual lab job, and Isobel for most of the afternoon. She’d only left a little while ago, claiming she had to get ready for a date and then refusing to give any more information no matter how persistent Michael was in his questioning. 

Liz pauses at the bottom of the ladder. “I’m stopping by the Pony to talk to Maria and Max, getting dinner, and then coming back. If either of you intend on being here that long, text me what you want.” She pushes her bag up onto her shoulder. “Be good, both of you.” Liz takes the ladder back up, and Alex waits for the loud thump of the hatch closing before he looks back down at his screens. 

It hasn’t been just the two of them in a long time. There had been a few times, after CrashCon, but then Mr. Jones was making their lives hell and Alex had Forrest— until he didn’t anymore. He thinks that’s probably why Michael kept some distance.

Lately, though, it seems like everyone else has been going out of their way to be around whenever they can. Whenever they’re doing work like this in one of their bunkers, someone else hangs out like a buffer. He’s not sure that they’re doing it on purpose, but he’s also not stupid. Michael hasn’t been particularly kind, lately, but even Alex knows he’s less likely to blow up if Isobel or Liz or _anyone_ are also around. 

The bunker is quiet, and it’s ideal for Alex to get things done right now— it’s so easy to get sidetracked when the whole team is together. It’d be ideal if the silence weren’t so fucking uncomfortable. 

“You’re being colder than usual,” Alex remarks, after trying and failing to get some stuff done. He lowers the screen of the laptop on his left, so there’s nothing between them but open space now. 

Michael looks up from the set of earbuds and shoves whatever tool he’d been working with out of the way. “Excuse me for not wanting to be chummy with someone who’s definitely trying to get me captured. We all remember how well that worked out last time, don’t we?”

“If this were a ruse to capture you, it would have been easier to just kidnap you. I’m not, like, playing a game here, or whatever you think I’m doing.” 

“But is it really so unbelievable for me to think that, considering you and your genocidal maniac of a brother seem to be getting along these days?” Michael asks. Alex opens his mouth to respond but Michael wasn’t done, apparently, because he keeps going. “I’m not stupid, Alex. You keep skipping things and not answering calls—” 

“Because I knew Flint was hiding something!” Alex exclaims. “Do you really think that after everything last year, I’d just casually befriend the guy who held you hostage? He kidnapped me too, remember.” 

“Yes! It’s not so impossible to believe that, because for some fucking reason you’ll still try to find the good in someone who hasn’t given you any reason to believe they’ll change.” 

“He hasn’t,” Alex admits. 

“Hasn’t what?”

“Hasn’t changed.” Alex’s personal laptop dings, so he turns his attention to it. It’s a text from Liz, _just got to the Pony. if you don’t give me a food order in the next 10 minutes NO DINNER FOR YOU_ , followed by another: _xoxo_. Alex types a message back with his order, plus something he’s pretty sure Michael would eat because he doesn’t know if Liz texted him, or if he’d even text back. When he looks back up, Michael is still looking at him, like maybe— just maybe— he hadn’t looked away at all while Alex had been typing. 

“If he hasn’t changed, then why are you doing this?” Michael asks, sounding frustrated. “l— you’re my friend, Alex. If something goes really wrong, if you get hurt— it’s like we all get hurt. I don’t want that. For you, or for any of us.”

“This is what I had to do, Guerin. It’s not like I’d recommend conning someone who doesn’t think you deserve basic human rights into trusting you. I didn’t _like_ doing it.”

Michael is fidgeting with the earbuds and some of the tools now; Alex knows him well enough to know that this conversation isn’t over, but for once Michael can’t find the words to keep it going. Alex isn’t really sure why they’re fighting at all anymore; it’s obvious Michael is mad, but Alex can’t figure out what exactly he’s mad at. It could be literally anything, knowing Michael. Sometimes, when they fight, it feels like they’re having two different fights. 

“I need you to understand that I’m not doing any of this to hurt you,” Alex says carefully, breaking the silence. “Or Max and Isobel, for that matter. I would never bring you into a situation where I’m intentionally putting you at risk.” Alex’s eyes dart to Michael’s left hand. Where the skin was once mottled and the fingers crooked, there’s only smooth skin and healed bones now. He still thinks about it too often, though. 

“That wasn’t intentional,” Michael says, like he knows exactly what Alex is thinking. 

“I’m not going to put you in a situation where you’re guaranteed to get hurt or kidnapped or taken advantage of,” Alex repeats, hoping that this time, it’ll get through to Michael. 

Michael looks back up at Alex, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Just the regular amount of danger, then. Keeps things interesting.”

A minute ago, Alex wouldn’t have expected Michael to joke with him. He’s thankful for the shift. “It sort of comes with the territory.”

“You know I trust you, right?” Michael says. Alex nods slowly. “Okay, because I do. I always have, even when you haven’t given me good reason to. I’m just trying to wrap my head around all of this.” 

“Take all the time you need.” 

Michael nods, and then he launches into an explanation about what he’s doing with the earbuds; he’s trying to convert them into some sort of closed-circuit system where they can communicate. Alex doesn’t really understand any of it, but he can tell Michael’s been wanting to tell someone about this. He listens, he nods encouragingly, and he stays at his own work station despite how badly he’d like to go over to Michael’s, lean over his shoulder while Michael shows him all of the newly rewired pieces.

(Alex has always known Michael was smart, and he’s adapted to that over the years, figuring out how to use his wealth of knowledge to his advantage. Alex has always known this, but he’s realizing now that Michael is even _smarter_. He knows things Alex can’t even begin to comprehend, and Alex is learning from him every time they’re down here.)

“That’s really cool,” Alex says, once Michael is finished. “You’re really— doing a great job.” 

“We’re all doing what we can.” Michael shrugs.

Alex nods, and they lapse back into silence. It’s more comfortable now than when Liz left, so Alex re-opens his second laptop to see if anything happened while they talked. He pokes around for a few minutes, but his focus is completely shot for the time being. He feels Michael’s eyes on him, but every time he looks up, Michael’s eyes dart back to the earbuds. 

“Guerin,” Alex says, against his better judgement. “I think we should… talk, maybe.” 

“We were just talking.” 

“I mean, about us. About how we left things,” Alex sighs. 

Michael drops the earbuds onto the table again. “Alex, no.” 

“No?” 

Michael shakes his head. “We need to— we need to steal this fucking weapon and figure out what all of _that_ means. We pull this off, and then we’ll talk.” 

Alex steels himself, trying not to look visibly upset. He’d sort of hoped— even though it’s always been stupid to hope— he’d hoped that maybe if they talked now, they’d be on less uneasy ground throughout all of this. Maybe they’d at least stop requiring babysitters. Even if nothing had come of it, at least they’d put it all out there.

But for now he has something else to work toward, so he gets back to it. 

Alex hears a knock and then the hatch opening. Panic courses through him briefly, just like it does every time he’s down here and someone opens the hatch, until he remembers that they were expecting Liz to come back. 

“I’m back!” Liz calls from halfway down the ladder. When she hits the ground, she puts her bag down between her legs and pulls the sweatshirt she’s wearing— obviously Max’s— over her head and throws it over a cabinet. “How are my boys doing?”

“We didn’t kill each other, if that’s what you’re asking,” Michael snarks. Alex wonders if he’s also caught onto what the others are doing. 

“Everything’s good, Liz.”

“I come bearing gifts.” Liz pulls takeout bags out of her bag, drops one at her workstation, slides one across the table to Alex, and walks over to give the last one to Michael. “Alex said he thinks you like avocado on your burgers. I guessed medium, and I sort of remembered making you a burger with cheddar jack once, so that’s what you got.” 

“Thanks,” Michael says, meeting Alex’s eye. Alex smiles before turning back to his screens and his own dinner. 

“Catch me up.” Liz drops down into her chair. “What are we working on today?”

Alex leans back while Michael starts explaining his earbud project again. Liz is more engaged than he was, interrupting to ask questions constantly, but Alex is fine just sitting and listening.

##  _maria_

Maria has felt like she’s been left out of this whole process, and part of her really doesn’t mind. She’s busy, what with the bar and bringing in new visitors and new food ventures for the bar, but she’s kind of missed the times where she and Liz and Alex were galavanting around town, looking for shit to do.

She’s got something like that here, as she watches Alex work at a computer, doing… god knows what. She’s never understood technology beyond her own need for it, so hacking and cracking codes and _creating_ codes? Yeah, right. Alex was always really good at manipulating electronics. She, on the other hand, was good at pitching sales. She thinks maybe that’s why they’re such a good team.

The sound of Alex typing is soothing to her, a nice reprieve from what she’d been looking at. Alex had figured out how to get her Tinder profile to match with a security guard from the place they’re trying to steal from, and the guy had messaged her; nothing too out of the ordinary, but being a distraction isn’t exactly her favorite thing in the world. She’s staring at her phone so hard she could put a hole in it, and when she looks up, Alex is frowning at her.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and she sighs, head in hands.

“I don’t like this. I feel weird about it.” She sits back in the desk chair—it’s more comfortable than she’d originally thought—and pulls her knees to her chest. “I don’t like the idea of me not being there while you all put yourself in danger.”

She’d gone from excitement at being included to angry at being a pawn, but she’s not; the more she thinks about it, the better it is that she’s the one marked as the “distraction.” She owns a bar, she’s planned a whole theme night that the security guys will absolutely go for, and that’s all well and good, but she feels kind of useless. 

Alex frowns harder. “Maria, I don’t _want_ you in danger. And, if we’ve planned this right, then no one will be. Especially not you.”

“But there’s so much I could do if I was there with Liz and Isobel. We’ve been practicing!” she protests, and Alex sighs. It’s a fight they’ve had a million times, and at this point it’s not even a fight. She either sits in the bar with the security guys because _someone’s_ gotta keep an eye on them, or she sits in the getaway van with Alex and Kyle. She sighs, too. “I just love you, and I’m worried that you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Alex sighs again. “I’m not.”

Maria fixes him with an unimpressed look. “Alex.”

“I’m not!” He sits on the table in front of her. “I’m just trying to make sure no one gets hurt.”

“Is no one code for Michael Guerin?” Maria waggles her eyebrows, and Alex’s eyes widen, and he kicks her chair. “Oh, so it _is_!” Maria laughs, and Alex rolls his eyes, but he laughs with her, and instead of them sitting in the bunker any longer, she manages to get him to see sunlight long enough to get milkshakes with her.

They stroll through town, sipping idly on Peanut Butter Blast-Offs with chocolate and lamenting how hot it is. “Maybe we didn’t think this through,” Alex says, and he wipes his forehead off with his hand, grimacing. “It’s so dry.”

“Eh, we have our milkshakes,” Maria says, tipping her head toward the sky with her eyes closed. It’s nice to hang out with Alex one-on-one; she hasn’t seen him a lot lately since he’d gotten so busy doing whatever it is planning a heist involves doing. “It’s nice to spend time with you, you know.” She says it kindly, not accusing, but Alex looks guilty anyway. “Did you and Guerin make up, yet?”

“Sort of?” Alex throws his empty cup in the garbage. Maria raises an eyebrow. “We’re, uh. Getting there.” 

“Good,” she says, and she finds that she means it. She doesn’t need her psychic powers to know that in any universe Michael and Alex will always find their way back to each other.

##  _kyle_

So here’s the thing about planning a heist: at its absolute easiest, it’s still really fucking hard.

It’d probably be easier if they were career criminals or something, and the heist _was_ their job, but six of them have full time jobs on top of what’s starting to feel like a second job. 

It’s not harder than med school— he’s sure _nothing_ will ever be harder than med school— but he’s sleeping about the same amount now that he was when he was a resident, which is why he finds himself nodding off in their headquarters during a particularly slow evening. It’s a rare one where all eight of them are in the same room at the same time, but everyone’s kind of doing their own thing and Kyle doesn’t really have a thing right now. 

There’s a laptop open in front of him and a to do list open on that, but most of the things, at least the ones he can control, are done at this point. He’d like to add _nap_ to that list, or _eat a real meal_ , or _get eight hours of sleep for once_ , or _see Steph outside of a bunker_ , but he keeps telling himself all of this is bigger than that. His friends mean more than a good night’s sleep or a home cooked meal; all of that will still be there when this is done. Steph understands. 

And so he presses on, because that’s what he has to do. 

He hasn’t looked at a clock in hours when Alex stops typing suddenly and clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. 

“I’m pretty sure Flint is hiding shit,” he starts. “Like, I wouldn’t put it past him to be hiding stuff at his house, and I think it’s important to figure out _before_ we break into a highly secure government facility.” 

“If you insist, Captain,” Michael says. It goes ignored completely save for a confused look on Alex’s face. Kyle makes a mental note to ask Alex about all of that once this is all over and they have clear heads again. As if it’s possible to have a clear head with everything going on.

“What are you suggesting we do?” Isobel asks. It’s an actual helpful comment, unlike her brother’s.

“It might be a good idea to bug him somehow.”

“Kyle and Max broke into his house once,” Liz says. Everyone else looks a little confused, and Kyle remembers that that small breaking and entering they committed isn’t exactly common knowledge. 

“That… happened,” Max says, and Kyle laughs. “I’m sure we could probably pull it off again. It wasn’t exactly difficult.”

“When did you break into Flint’s house? Why wasn’t I invited?” Michael asks. 

“CrashCon,” Max explains, simply, and Michael just nods. Everyone was sort of all over the place then in various states of investigating, kidnapped, and being held hostage. 

“I could do it with one other person,” Alex offers. “I know the floor plan of his house and how the bugs work. It’d be helpful if the person with me has powers.”

“I’ll do it,” Michael volunteers immediately. Kyle really thought there was going to be some back and forth, maybe an argument, before they settled this. Everyone’s a little tightly wound right now, it’s not just him, so for Michael to jump in this quickly feels like a blessing, even if it’s a little bit concerning. 

“I can do more than you,” Isobel says. 

“And I’ve already been inside Flint’s house,” Max adds. 

Okay, maybe Kyle spoke too soon on the whole back and forth thing. 

“Awesome. It’s not a competition because I already said I’m doing it.” Michael looks to Alex for some kind of backup. Kyle knows there’s no question about it; even in some crazy stupid possibly life threatening situations, Alex is going to pick Michael, because he’s spent the past ten years doing exactly that. 

“I’d be fine with any of you,” Alex says, and someone, maybe Max, audibly groans.

“I’m making the executive decision: Michael volunteered first, so he’ll do this,” Liz says, finally. “He’s the most familiar with the wires, anyway.”

“I’ll be on backup, then,” Isobel says. “What? You never know what’s going to happen, and I like being useful.” 

“Okay, great.” Alex opens the screen of his laptop again. “Oh, that’s all I needed. Guerin, can we just touch base before you go?” 

Kyle does a few more things on the computer in front of him, mainly figuring out how this pre-heist is going to affect their heist plans, before looking around the bunker; no one really seems to be working anymore. Isobel is painting Rosa’s nails and the two of them are gossiping about God knows what with Maria, Liz and Max are wrapped up in each other in the back corner, and Michael… isn’t doing what Alex had asked him to. They’re on opposite sides of the room, still, but Kyle can’t really be bothered to see if anything happens there. 

He’ll catch up with Alex tomorrow or the next day. Right now, all he wants to do is sleep.

##  _michael_

“Do you know your plan?” Alex is asking, for what feels like the fortieth time. Michael rolls his eyes, but he goes through the mental checklist one more time anyway. Watch out for Flint. Use his powers to unlock the door. Help Alex plant the wires. Leave and re-lock the door. He thinks he could do this in his sleep. It’ll be easy peasy, nothing to worry about. Alex clears his throat. “Guerin?”

“Yes, Alex, I got it.” They park down the street from Flint’s, walking side by side. If the air between them wasn’t so tense, Michael could imagine they were just walking home after a date, just enjoying each other’s company. But he’s not sure that either of them want _or_ need that. He can feel Alex practically vibrating with nervous energy. Michael exhales. “You good, bro?”

Alex tenses even more, if that’s possible. “Fine. Just want to get this over with.”

“The heist or hanging out with me?”

A ghost of a smile crosses Alex’s face. “Definitely hanging out with you.”

MIchael feels a small thrill at making Alex almost laugh. _We’re getting there_ , he thinks. Alex slows, and Michael bumps into him, feeling something electric pass through where his shoulder connected with Alex’s, and Alex frowns. “Anybody home?” Michael asks, and Alex frowns more.

“Shouldn’t be.” His furrowed brows and his downturned mouth make him look positively miserable, and Michael opens his mouth to say something, but Alex just shakes his head. “Come on. Work your magic, or whatever.”

Michael snorts. “Could be working it on you,” he mumbles, and Alex barks out a quiet laugh. Michael smiles for real, then, and unlocks the door.

“Oh, fancy seeing you here,” he hears a voice say, and before he can even think, he’s pushing Alex back down the porch stairs into a bush, and then everything goes black.

When Michael comes to, his head is fucking _pounding_. He lifts a hand to his temple, slowly, only to pull away with blood on his fingertips. “Jesus _fuck_ ,” he says, and when he looks up, he’s alone, shackled to a bed in Flint’s basement. He frowns. “Well, that’s fucked.”

It’s probably karma for when he’d captured and tortured Flint, but he thought maybe Flint’s near death experience at Max’s hands would have changed him. You know, maybe he wouldn’t be all about chaining people up and leaving them alone with a bloody head in a basement. Well, a guy can dream, but Michael supposes that it didn’t really change Flint all that much. 

He stares at the handcuffs chaining him to the bed, but nothing seems to work. He could swear he unlocked that front door, and when he stares at the shirt thrown haphazardly on the floor in front of him, he can’t make it move. He leans his head back against the foot of the bed, banging it once. “God _dammit,_ Flint Manes.” 

He sits there for what feels like _hours_ , trying to see if he can will his powers to work without the temporary block Flint has put on them, but nothing gives. “Some brother-in-law you are,” he mumbles, and then blinks in surprise at himself—he hasn’t presently thought of Alex as his partner in a long, long time, and the fact that he’s still capable of doing so makes him feel a little queasy. 

A bump at the door makes him go still, eyes widening minutely in fear. There’s another bump, and then one more, and then it goes quiet. He shakes his head, and he wonders what happened to Alex; if he’s chained up in some different room, or if Alex… no. He won’t go down that route. He doesn’t want to think of any alternative where Alex isn’t actively trying to find him. 

“I wonder…” he says out loud, and then starts searching frantically for a knife. It’s Flint; he probably has a knife hidden somewhere in a basement. (Alex certainly does, and Alex isn’t even brainwashed the way Flint is.) Michael’s search comes up empty, and then there’s stomping down the stairs, and Flint is smiling menacingly at him. For some absurd, stupid reason, Michael laughs at the sight.

“What?” Flint barks, and Michael shakes his head. “Guerin.”

“I just can’t get the image of you as a sophomore in high school bullying your own brother out of my head,” Michael taunts, and Flint’s face drops. “You’re such a coward.”

“You’re going to regret saying that,” Flint says. “You’re the coward. You’re chained to a bed, you think you have power over me?”

“Do you _really_ think you’re doing the right thing?” Michael counters, and Flint’s face hardens.

“It’s the only thing I _can_ do.” He kneels in front of Michael, and Michael takes a moment to look at him. If he tries, he can see the resemblance between him and Alex: it’s mostly posture and personality quirks that they only could have picked up from Jesse, but their eyes are the same beautiful brown and their smiles, though Michael has gotten them in completely different circumstances, have the same tilt to them. It’s a wonder that they turned out so differently.

“What are you gonna do?” Michael asks. “Kill me?”

Flint opens his mouth to respond, but then the door blasts open.

##  _isobel_

Staring at your phone waiting for it to ring isn’t going to make it ring any faster, Isobel keeps having to remind herself, but waiting for the all clear from Michael and Alex is taking longer than she anticipated. 

Or maybe it isn’t, because she doesn’t really know how any of this works. 

What she _does_ know is the kind of stuff Flint is capable of, so she won’t relax until she knows for certain that the job is done and everyone is still unbroken and in one piece, which means that for right _now_ , she’s in her car, dressed in leggings and a tank top just in case she’ll have to do some physical activity, willing her phone to just fucking _ring_ already. 

Her phone rings, finally, but it’s Alex calling, not Michael, even though they agreed the all clear call would come from Michael’s phone three days ago, which only means one thing— and it is probably not a good thing. She puts her car into drive and presses the call button on her steering wheel to answer the call. 

“Alex?” 

There’s the sound of running and breathlessness before Alex says, “Isobel?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Alex. What’s going on?” 

Isobel prides herself on staying calm in situations like this, because she could freak out and drive like a maniac but that wouldn’t be helpful. So she steels herself for whatever bad news probably awaits her, just like she always does. 

“Flint has Michael in his fucking— basement torture chamber? I don’t know, I just woke up in a bush? But I can’t get to him.”

“I’m already on my way,” Isobel says, taking a sharp left off a main road. 

“I’m worried, Iz. Flint was somehow one step ahead of us and—”

“Alex,” Isobel says, sharp. “I’m worried, too, obviously, but what we’re not going to do right now is spiral, okay? Michael is going to be fine because I said so.”

“I wish it were that easy.” 

“Oh, it is. Did you forget that I have superpowers?” 

Flint lives pretty far outside of town, definitely further out than she and Alex do, and now that she’s off what she’d consider to be the main roads, she definitely starts pushing the speed limit a little further than she should be. On the other end of the phone Alex is silent, and Isobel can’t imagine what must be going through his head right now. She can, in the sense that she also cares deeply about Michael, but the similarities end there. Isobel cares about and loves Michael like he’s her brother. It’s so wildly different for Alex, and Isobel can’t understand that very specific worry he has. 

(“It’s just bad, Iz,” she remembers Michael telling her after things settled down post-CrashCon. Alex was still with Forrest and Michael wasn’t doing the best job at hiding his contempt. “Alex and I are always just going to hurt each other, even if it’s unintentional. He got kidnapped by his own fucking dad just so they could get to me. Even if he weren’t— it’s whatever. I love him but we’re a bad idea. He’s happy, right? That’s all that matters.”)

There was a time she might have understood the way Alex is feeling right now, back when she would have gone to the ends of the earth to protect Noah. She’s been burned and come out on the other end stronger and different and _better_ , but she hasn’t felt that kind of unshakeable pull toward someone she loves in a long time. At least— not the way Alex loves Michael. Nothing will ever be that. 

“Isobel? Are you still there?” Alex asks, grounding Isobel back in reality. 

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just down the road now.”

“Okay,” Alex says. “Okay, I see you now. I’m hanging up.” And then the line goes dead. 

Isobel doesn’t bother with the part of their original plan that included parking near Alex’s truck to stay inconspicuous. She drives right past his truck until he’s in her line of sight and then she pulls to the curb and parks. In her trunk, there’s a hydroflask filled with acetone because she’s been practicing subtlety lately, so she grabs that, clips it to her belt bag, and then at the last second, also picks up the lead pipe she’s kept in there since everything with Noah ended. 

Like, yeah, she has mind control and some basic telekinetic manipulation skills, but sometimes you have to go old fashioned. She’s never had to _use_ the lead pipe, and there’s a part of her hoping she can still say that after today.

“Is that a—” Alex asks when she walks up to him, eyeing the metal. 

“A lead pipe, yeah,” she shrugs. 

“You don’t— okay,” Alex says, trailing off at the end. “We’ll have no problem getting inside as long as we’re _really_ quiet, and I should still be able to plant the wires. The basement door and beyond that is going to be the issue.” 

“I have a plan, I think,” Isobel starts. “If it doesn’t work, we’re probably fucked, but it should. Just follow my lead, okay? I think I can get inside his head and also probably hold him up against a wall, but you need to grab Michael and then get out, okay? I won’t be able to hold him as long as Michael could— wait, speaking of Michael, do you think Flint gave him something to suppress his powers?”

Alex nods. “At least, I think so. It would be a massive oversight otherwise.” 

“Are you ready?” 

Alex huffs out a laugh. “Not at all. Let’s go.” 

It’s a small blessing that Flint was stupid enough to keep the back door open after whatever had gone down, so that’s one less thing Isobel has to put her energy toward. Alex puts a finger to his lips, reminding her to be quiet, and pushes the door open a little more. Isobel follows him in, light on her feet, and looks around while Alex does something with the wires in the living area first, and then the kitchen. Alex ducks into one of the bedrooms, but Isobel stays planted near the door to the basement. Less foot traffic is probably a good thing. 

If she didn’t know better, she definitely wouldn’t assume a war criminal lived here. There’s no sign of a struggle, no clear red flags pointing toward whatever might be happening in the basement right now. She’s not sure what she expected, but it’s just a boring house with boring decor. 

“Give me the lead pipe,” Alex whispers. The basement door is cracked open, so Isobel uses her foot to quietly pull it open enough just for them to fit. She hands Alex the pipe, but stops him before he starts down the staircase. 

“I’m going first,” she murmurs, and then she does. The basement is finished, but it’s suspiciously empty, and Isobel goes cold, mind immediately jumping to the worst case, like— maybe they’re too late. Then Alex taps her shoulder and nods toward another closed door. 

So _that’s_ where he keeps the torture chamber, then. 

She’s still leading him, taking the smallest, quietest steps possible toward the door, and then, as if she hadn’t even been trying at all, she literally breaks the door off. She’s stunned for a second, wide eyes looking at the opening where a door had once been and then back at Alex, who definitely was not expecting that. 

It might be the adrenaline or maybe just that this is _Michael_ and Isobel _needs_ him, but it’s never been this easy to manipulate the things around her. 

Flint’s face is just so fucking punchable, especially with the horrifyingly smug expression he’s wearing, but she forgoes that urge in favor of pinning him to the wall with her mind. All she can focus on is him, so she has no idea if Alex is actually doing what she told him to behind her.

“How are you—” Flint chokes out. “You’re not supposed to be able to—”

“Hmm,” Isobel smirks. “It looks like you weren’t as far ahead of us as you thought you were.” 

Faintly, she can hear Michael muttering “what the _fuck_ ,” and then Alex telling her that she’s good, they have to go, but she holds on for just a little longer. 

“One more thing,” she says, opting to get inside his head instead of speaking this out loud. His head is not the nicest head she’s ever been inside. Worse than when Max was dying, worse than being shut out by Maria. “Do not fuck with my family. That includes Alex. You have _no_ idea what we’re capable of, and if you pull this again, you’ll find out. Understood?” 

At once, Isobel lets go mentally and physically. Flint collapses against the wall, panting. He doesn’t even acknowledge her after that, so she makes quick work of getting out of that room and shutting the door behind her before she can even think about unclipping her hydroflask. She takes the stairs up two at a time until she can see daylight again, then breathes out a sigh of relief and takes a long sip from the water bottle. 

There’s a lot to unpack about the last fifteen minutes. The fear in Alex’s eyes when she’d first pulled up, the way Flint didn’t even seem to feel a little bit bad, how Isobel did things she didn’t even know her mind was capable of.

She’ll deal with all of that later. For now, though, she just needs to hug her brother. 

“I’m fine, Iz,” Michael says, muffled against her shoulder. 

“You need to stop scaring me like that!” Isobel keeps her hold on him for a few seconds longer. They don’t do this often, but she’s not ready to let go yet. 

“That was badass, though,” he says. “You’re getting really good.” 

Isobel lifts her head from Michael’s shoulder to find Alex leaning against her car looking at them. All of the worry he’d been wearing on his face earlier has melted away into something indescribably fond. Not for the first time, not even for the first time today, Isobel thinks they’re ready— they’re _beyond_ that. And they probably need to talk.

“Okay,” she says, pulling back from the hug but keeping Michael at arms length. She pushes the water bottle into his hands. “You, drink that. Alex, can you take him and we’ll meet back at my house?” She unzips her bag and tosses him her house key. “I’m going to run to Rite Aid to get some things I might not have at home.” 

“Sounds like a plan, boss,” Michael says. Getting knocked around the way he has today clearly had no effect on his personality, so Isobel knows he’s going to be okay. 

“You did good today,” Isobel leans in to whisper in Alex’s ear on the way to her car. He cracks a smile and then he’s onto the next thing already, getting Michael to his car down the block. Once she’s in her own car, Isobel opens her text thread with Liz and types out a new message. 

_we’re done but it got a little dicey because flint is a maniac. everyone’s okay but michael might be concussed? don’t tell kyle to come over i think it’ll just make michael murderous._

It’s always something with this bunch, but Isobel isn’t sure she’d like it any other way. 

  
  


##  _michael_

Michael’s head hurts.

He’s been smacked around a little too much for his liking, and Alex is hovering awkwardly while Isobel probably clears the Rite Aid out of all first aid kit materials, and Michael’s head is _killing_ him.

Maybe it’d be killing him less if Alex wasn’t asking him every minute if his head still hurts.

“Yes, Alex, it still hurts,” he says when he hears Alex take a breath. Alex frowns, turning back at him. “It’s exactly the same, but that’s to be expected because you’re asking me literally every minute. There’s no substantial change.” Michael closes his eyes and leans his head against the window; at least it’s cool, and it’s a nice relief against his pounding head.

“I’m just worried,” Alex mumbles, and Michael sighs.

“I know.” Michael rolls his neck, wincing at the stiffness. “I’ll just chug some nail polish remover, and I’ll be fine. No big.”

Alex snorts. “That will never not be weird, but okay.” It’s quiet, then; Michael opens his eyes to see Alex fiddling with his phone, typing something out. He sighs, leaning back against the couch cushion, and Michael fights the urge to lean forward and run his fingers through Alex’s hair. It likely wouldn’t be welcome, anyway. 

After a few minutes, the silence feels oppressive, and Michael wishes Alex would go back to asking him if his head still hurts. (It does, and he’d like a hug. But he’ll take what he can get.) Every so often, Alex lets out a sigh, and Michael swallows, and one of them will clear their throat like they’re going to say something, but they don’t. It’s infuriating.

“My head still hurts,” Michael says quietly, and Alex turns back to him, frowning. “But thank you for coming to save me.”

Alex blinks, like he’s shocked. “Well, obviously, Guerin. Did you think I was just going to leave you behind?” He scoffs, like it’s obvious, and Michael frowns. He hadn’t, not really. But they’ve been so uneasy about everything during this heist preparation, since the very first meeting when Alex had essentially been off the grid for weeks, since he’d promised Isobel he wouldn’t miss the pod squad’s party for the world, and then didn’t show. And Michael was hurt.

And when Michael hurts, he lashes out—he keeps his pain close to his heart, like a chain link fence, and everything thrown at it bounces back with more pain. He told Alex earlier, he’s told him so many times; he trusts him, he really does. Alex’s soul is so kind; he’s given out countless chances to people who just don’t deserve it, and it makes Michael wary. Michael, who doesn’t trust anyone if he can help it, just can’t imagine letting someone who’s hurt him back into his heart.

Except of course he can. Alex Manes is right there, frowning at his phone and shooting Michael worried glances. And Alex has hurt him so many times, but Michael can’t just stop trusting him. He’s tried and tried, but there will never be anyone like Alex for him, ever. A wave of nausea overcomes him, and he gags, pushing it back down.

“You okay?” Alex asks, and Michael nods.

“Peachy,” he replies. He can’t _wait_ for Isobel to get back.

So naturally, she doesn’t come back by the time she said she would.

Normally, Michael would be worried. Right now, though, he’s annoyed as fuck. It’s only been forty minutes, but Michael is fully about to have a conniption; Alex has fed him four ibuprofen pills (“Have you ever taken this?” Alex wondered aloud, and Michael snatched them from him), and copious amounts of water, and Michael doesn’t know how much more hovering and mothering he can take when they’re so close and barely speaking. His eyes are closed, but something blocks out the already low light in the living room, and Michael opens his eyes to see Alex standing in front of him.

“Yes?” he asks, and Alex is frowning. “You know, the longer you do that the more positive I am that your face is going to get stuck like that.”

Alex’s eyes widen in surprise, and then he lets out a full belly laugh, sitting on the couch, much closer than he’d been before.

“I was just going to ask if you were okay,” he says, soft, as though he hasn’t been doing that the whole time. “But since your snark is back, I’m assuming at least partly yes.”

“The ibuprofen helped,” Michael admits, staring at Alex. “Thank you.”

“Wow, two ‘thank you’s in one day. I’m honored.” Alex looks down at his hands, and then up at Michael with an unreadable expression on his face. “Michael…” He trails off, and an unspoken question hangs in the air. Michael waits with bated breath. “I just think—”

“God, _finally_.” Isobel bursts through her own front door, causing both Michael and Alex to jump. “That took forever. It’s like everyone in Roswell decided to get injured and hurt because it took literally 30 minutes to get through the line.” She dumps the bags on her coffee table, looking Michael in the eye. “Did you take something?”

“Alex gave me ibuprofen?” Michael says, and Isobel hums, looking through the bag. Alex moves to help her, and Michael tries and fails to catch his eye. Alex begins to clean the wound, resolutely not looking Michael in the eye, and Isobel finds the bandages, and Michael waves their hands away. “I can do this myself, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” Isobel snarks. “Let us help you, okay?”

So he does; he lets them clean the wound and fix him up and give him more medicine, and whatever Alex was going to say is gone, the moment shattered. Michael closes his eyes, and suddenly he wishes they’d had more time.

##  _max_

In all honesty, Max was kind of hoping he’d have a little more to do than _be intimidating_ and _hey, lift that box for me_. It’s not exactly ideal to get a text in the group chat from Alex four days before everything was supposed to go down that plans have changed since he and Michael got caught two days ago and everything they’d already set in stone was pretty much a thing of the past now. The piece of tech was moved from the facility Alex had been aware of to what is possibly storage at the UFO Emporium, because apparently the little pre-heist got Flint nervous. Max didn’t think that was _possible_ , but apparently it is, and it’s threatening to ruin everything.

Everyone is scrambling, trying to figure out new times to meet up and organize things, but Kyle and Liz keep assuring them that they’ve got this. 

Still, they’re going to need even more hands on deck now, all the help they can get, and Max can definitely get some of that. 

“So you, and the other aliens, and your humans are… heisting?” Jenna asks, leaning against the bar at the Wild Pony. He’s working, and so is she, but he texted her to stop by while she was patrolling to lay everything out for her. 

Max nods. Jenna shakes her head, laughing. “I should know better than to expect anything normal from you all anymore.” 

“Okay, but the thing is,” Max explains. “We kind of need your help to pull this off now. The plan to just break into a secure government lab—” 

“Are you _sure_ you should be telling this to me? Technically I’m on the clock.” 

“Okay, but we aren’t breaking into a secure government lab anymore. Just the UFO Emporium.” 

“I’m not sure that makes it better.” 

“We just need someone with an in to help us out now. Kyle’s not exactly going to go to his mom and ask her to lowkey surveil the UFO Emporium, but I promise it’s nothing too crazy.”

“I’ve lost my job for you before, Evans, remember that. But I’m not gonna say no now.” 

Max smiles, relieved that Jenna is on board and even if everything is falling apart around them, at least there’s this. “You have no idea how helpful this is.” 

They make a plan to meet up again later once they’re both off the clock; Max is pretty sure Liz and Kyle called an all hands meeting for tonight and he doesn’t think either of them will be leaving the bunker without being forcibly removed. It’s a good chance to get Jenna caught up by someone who actually has the plans, unlike Max, who is just following them. 

“I owe you, Cam!” Max calls to her back as she’s on her way out. He picks up his phone and reads through the newer updates, though they’re few and far between right now. The neverending optimism is Liz’s thing, usually, but Max is feeling cautious at best right now. He sort of understands how Michael must feel all the time, and it’s kind of exhausting. 

Later, in the bunker, Liz and Kyle get Jenna up to speed officially, while Max shows up with dinner and pokes around at their new plans. Nothing really makes sense, and it probably won’t until everyone shows up in a little while.

“Oh, Max,” Liz says, while it’s just the two of them. “Thank you, seriously. This is a huge help.” 

“Anything to make it easier for you, babe.” 

“You are the least shitty thing about this very shitty day,” Liz says, leaning in to kiss him. 

She sounds exhausted; they’re _all_ exhausted, but Max imagines this must be what she was like all those months she spent running around trying to save his life. She’s running on fumes, but cares too much to just let this go. It’s admirable, honestly, and Max loves her for it. 

“Is there anything else I can do?” 

Liz shakes her head. “Just wait ‘til everyone gets here?” Max nods, and Liz gets pulled into the conversation with Kyle and Jenna again like she hadn’t even stepped out of it. 

“Hey, wait,” he says, and she turns back to him. “You’re doing great, and I love you.” 

She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to; everything she would have said is in the grin she gives him in response. 

Everyone starts filtering in eventually. Isobel and Michael bring more food for everyone, but it doesn’t really do anything for the overall mood. Morale is low, that much Max can tell. 

“Guys,” Liz says, once everyone’s settled around the table. Michael slides a taco across the table to Maria and Liz stifles her laughter. 

“Give us a pep talk!” Rosa exclaims. “Like, you’re the coach in a sports movie and we’re losing the big game.” 

“So, today sucked, and now we have three days to rearrange everything for our only shot at getting this tech.” Max gives Liz an encouraging smile. “Kyle, Alex, and I have been working on this literally since Alex texted us this morning, and we had to add Cam to our team for extra surveillance, but I still think we’re going to get this done. And, okay, maybe it _does_ feel a little bit like we’re down at halftime right now, but think about how good winning is going to feel, right? Because we have a new plan, and it’s not as airtight as the last one, but it’s a start, and I believe in us.” 

“Good talk, coach,” Rosa says, smirking. 

“So we’ll start first thing tomorrow with going over the new stuff. I don’t know about you guys, but tonight, I’m getting drunk.” Liz pulls a bottle of red wine and a corkscrew out of her bag, and makes it clear she’s intending on drinking most, if not all, of it straight from the bottle. 

“ _That’s_ my kind of meeting,” Michael says. 

“Do you just carry a corkscrew around all the time?” Isobel asks, and across the table, Maria laughs. 

“Only most of the time,” Liz responds. 

There isn’t much to drink in the bunker at the moment, just one of Michael’s half-finished six packs and a bottle of mezcal, but Kyle says Steph is coming with more drinks and then someone turns music on and dims the lights. Liz drapes herself over Max’s lap and laughs brightly in his ear. 

It’s been a while since any of them let loose like this; maybe it’s just what they needed.

##  _michael_

The party is in full swing by the time Liz makes her way over to Michael, two bottles of beer in hand. She hands one to him, waggling her eyebrows, and Michael rolls his eyes, taking it from her. 

“So,” she begins, and Michael blinks. “Everything good?”

“Uh, yeah.” Michael gestures around at the room. “Everyone’s here and not dying, so. Couldn’t be better.” He takes a swig of the beer, and Liz gives him an unimpressed look. “Um. The tech is good and usable?”

“Michael Guerin.”

“What, Liz?” He laughs, and she continues staring at him, wholly not buying it, and suddenly, a lightbulb clicks. Isobel sits down on his other side, and they look at each other before looking back at him. “Okay, no.”

“This isn’t an intervention, Michael!” Liz exclaims, pulling him back down as he tries to stand. “How’s Alex?”

Michael turns her unimpressed look back at her, at both of them. “He’s over there. In fact, you can ask him.” He takes another sip, and Isobel scoffs.

“Oh, come _on_ , Michael.” Isobel knocks their shoulders together, and he frowns. “It’s just little old us. Whatever you say here is safe.” Her tone is placating, and Michael shoves her lightly; she laughs. “Okay, but seriously. You seem less…”

“Ornery?” Liz finishes, and Michael gapes at her, offended. “Oh, oh. Stupid about him? Is that better?”

“You,” he starts, pointing at Liz, “are not allowed to talk. I watched you pine after Max. _Pine_ , Liz. And I had to listen to his terrible poetry for a _year_.”

Liz opens her mouth, and then shuts it. “Fair.”

“And _you_!” He points at Isobel. “You are—”

“The light of your life? I know.” Isobel smiles sweetly. “Are you _ever_ going to talk to him?”

“About?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Liz says. “He cares about you. He’s been trying to apologize for weeks. Are you going to let him?”

“He already did.” Michael watches him from across the room; he watches as Alex laughs at something Kyle says, the way Rosa grips his arm, the way he smiles at Maria who’s on the floor in front of him, in a heated conversation with Max about god knows what. Alex seems to sense something, and looks up, smiling softly at Michael. Michael raises his bottle, and Alex laughs a little, and they both take a drink. Michael loves him.

“Oh, it’s like that, huh?” Isobel says, and Michael turns to her, moment over. He furrows his brows, and she shakes her head. “You think you’re ready yet?” Liz looks at him, then back at Alex. Michael sighs.

“If he is.”

“You two are impossible,” Liz mutters, and she pulls Isobel up. “Maybe if we leave you alone he’ll come over and you’ll stop moping in the corner by yourself?”

“I’m always moping in a corner by myself,” Michael says. “You knew me in high school.”

“Okay.” Isobel turns to the group in the corner. “Alex! Get your ass over here, I have a question!” she yells, and Michael goes from mildly amused to horrified in two seconds flat. He’s a little drunk, and a _lot_ not ready. He’d already told Alex they’d talk after, but this… this is too soon. 

But Isobel ropes Alex into a gentle, easy conversation, and lets Michael in after a bit. It’s just general small talk, about work and dogs and high school and heisting (which, how weird is his life that general small talk includes _heisting?_ ). Isobel drops out of the conversation so gradually Michael barely notices, and eventually she gets up to talk to Rosa, leaving Michael and Alex in a corner, huddled together, giggling like teenagers.

“And it was so stupid, Michael,” Alex is saying, and they’re both laughing, stupidly, at everything and nothing. “I didn’t even know what to do.”

“What can you do, really?” he asks, and Alex laughs again, shrugging. Michael swallows, takes a leap. “It’s nice to see you so happy.” 

Alex blinks, looking at Michael with far too much fondness for Michael to handle it; he chuckles lightly, peeling the label off his beer bottle. Alex nudges him. “Hey. Thanks.”

Michael shrugs. “What are friends for, you know?” He swallows again, looking up from the ground. “I just… missed hearing you laugh, I think. It’s nice.”

“I’ve missed laughing with you,” Alex says simply, and Michael’s head shoots up. His breath hitches. Alex looks away for a moment, and Michael stares at his profile. “We used to laugh a lot.”

Michael feels a prickling at his eyes at that statement, which shocks him a little; alcohol doesn’t usually affect him this readily, but hearing Alex mention their past has him feeling nostalgic. Even after everything they _had_ laughed a lot, well into their early twenties. And Michael misses laughing with Alex. It’s a semblance of their life feeling somewhat normal, despite all the alien bullshit and the military bullshit and the dropping out of college bullshit and all the back and forth bullshit. They’re somehow still sitting in a corner, a little drunk, laughing at nothing like they did when they were seventeen and everything felt impossibly large.

“We did.” Michael leans back against the wall, and Alex leans against him, their shoulders pressed together. It’s weird; this simple touch feels like it’s set Michael on fire. His face is hot, his skin tingling even through the fabric of both their shirts. “Sometimes it’s easier to laugh when you’re younger.”

Alex hums, letting his head fall to Michael’s shoulder. “Sometimes it’s easier to feel young with you.”

Michael inhales sharply. “Alex…”

Alex shakes his head. “I mean, we still are, I guess. But we’re planning a heist to steal alien tech, and I’ve lost a leg, and you’ve lost so much, and we both—” He cuts himself off, sitting up. “I don’t know.”

Michael, as if on autopilot, reaches up to Alex’s face. “We don’t have to talk about it now.” Alex leans into his hand, and Michael sighs. “Alex.”

“I’m okay,” Alex says, and Michael rubs his thumb over Alex’s cheekbone, leaning in slowly. He realizes halfway through what he’s doing, and pulls back abruptly. He blinks, and Alex coughs.

“Alex, I—”

“It’s okay,” Alex says, and he stands, gesturing to Maria. “I should get back.”

“Alex,” Michael repeats, but he’s already walking away, and Michael exhales harshly, putting his head between his knees. “Stupid fucking idiot,” he mutters, and Max sits down next to him. 

“We all are, man,” he says, and Michael shoves at his shoulder, but he can admit it’s nice to sit in silence while he watches the love of his life walk away again.

##  _alex_

He doesn’t even really have an excuse, this time. Alex has had more to drink than he has in a long time, and the thought of this— this _thing_ that they’ve never been able to get right— becoming real right now is just too much all at once. He wanted to kiss Michael tonight, and he didn’t. 

Michael said they’d talk once this was done and Alex has been hanging onto that like a lifeline, especially after the other day. He’d been so scared that maybe he’d blown it for good. Walked away one too many times and lost his chance forever. He didn’t, and somehow he got lucky enough to get another chance and he blew it. 

He decides that tonight has to be the last time he does that. As soon as this is all over, he’s going to tell Michael everything he’s deserved to hear for a long time now. No more walking away and not saying what he wants to say. 

Across the bunker, Michael is still sitting on the floor, but Max has joined him now. His head is still down so Alex can’t see his face. It’s probably for the best. Alex doesn’t know what he’d do with that— usually, when he walks away, he doesn’t look back. 

He’s been sitting at a desk in the opposite corner idly sipping on a beer and monitoring the wires in Flint’s house for a while when Steph rolls over to him in one of those wheeled spinning desk chairs. Everyone’s still going for the most part, in varying degrees of sober (Steph and Rosa), drunk (Isobel and Cam), and completely wasted (Liz). Alex doesn’t understand how they have the stamina to keep going, even if his own tolerance for alcohol is above average. He can’t bring himself to actually relax right now.

“It’s a party, Alex,” she pouts. “Why are you in the corner?” 

He shrugs. “I’m just doing my job.” 

“Doesn’t it, like, record or something? Just listen to it in the morning, or make Kyle listen to it in the morning.”

“I’m not really in the party mood,” Alex admits. He’s not planning on telling Steph what exactly happened earlier, but if she saw them sitting against the wall at any point, there’s a good chance she already knows.

“Okay, well, I’m here and I haven’t seen you in _weeks_ , so even if you don’t want to get wasted and dance on the table like Isobel, you should still come hang out with me.” 

Alex wants to say no, but the thing is: it’s especially hard to right now with everything he’d done over the past few months. When he was still with Forrest, they’d go out with Kyle and Steph sometimes, and then once Forrest was out of the picture, Steph didn’t stop including him. Alex has done a lot of atoning over the past few weeks, but he still hasn’t really made it up to her so at the very least, he does owe her this. 

“We don’t even have to talk about Guerin.” Steph winks. So that’s settled, then. 

“Okay,” Alex nods. “Yeah, just give me one second to get this recording and I’ll be back over. No talk about my love life at all.” 

Steph winks at him and then pushes off the ground with her feet, rolling back over to Kyle. 

Alex releases a little bit of the tension in his shoulders and takes a deep breath before walking back over to everyone else. 

##  _rosa_

There’s an entirely new scale model of the UFO Emporium, complete with plans filed with the city. There’s an entirely new plan, pieced together in two days on little sleep and copious amounts of beer and coffee. There’s a sleeping Michael, in the corner, his head on Alex’s shoulder as Alex leans on the table, typing into his computer furiously. 

They really might pull this off.

Max and Maria show up with coffee and energy drinks, and Kyle and Liz grab one each, heading out for work for the day. Maria and Max move to curl up in the corner in the chairs, and Isobel climbs down once Kyle and Liz are gone, smiling at Rosa and tweaking a few things with Alex. Rosa surveys her model, and she sighs.

They’re definitely going to pull this off, or she’s going to go _batshit_.

##  _michael_

It’s happening.

They’re about to pull off this heist; it’s happening, and Michael’s stomach is in knots. (Little ones. He’s not _that_ nervous.)

He taps his foot incessantly, and Isobel puts her hands on his shoulders in an attempt to get him to stop moving. He stills for a moment, but as soon as she lets go, he’s fidgeting with something else. 

“Michael,” she sighs, and Max whips his head around. Michael groans. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah, no, I’m not stupid, we overplanned the fuck out of this.” He runs his hands through his hair. “What if I asked Alex to marry me?”

Max blinks. “You’re not even dating.”

“No time like the present, eh?”

“ _Michael._ ” Isobel grabs his hand, and then drops it. “Do you have a _ring_ in your pocket?”

“No!” he exclaims. And it’s true, but he did think about it, in all transparency. He’s just got a weird feeling about tonight; Liz and Kyle planned for _everything_ , but everything is never enough. There will always be one situation that goes south. Always one instance that you couldn’t have planned for, like another fucking spaceship crashing out of the sky, or someone created a new dinosaur at the Roswell Air Force base, or something completely out of left field that they couldn’t have planned for. That’s just how life is, and Michael is almost certain something like that is about to happen. 

“Michael,” Max says this time, and Michael sighs.

“Look. I told Alex that if we pull this thing off, then we’ll talk.” He starts pacing. He might wear a path in this patch of grass if he paces any harder. “But I have a weird feeling. Like something might go wrong, and I don’t want…” He stops, hearing peals of laughter from down the street. It’s Liz and Rosa, and he breathes again. “I don’t want something to go wrong and not have him know.”

Max smiles, small and crooked. “He knows. But it’d probably be nice to put words to it, anyway.”

Liz and Rosa walk up, then, and their laughter fades. “Damn, so somber,” Rosa says, rolling her neck. “Definitely _not_ a getaway car is parked and ready for Alex and Kyle. Wherever they are.”

“Maria is good, too; sliding into the security guard’s DMs seemed to work, so now he’s watching her work at the Pony.” Liz wrinkles her nose, a giggle escaping. “She’s giving him nothing to work with.”

“That’s my girl,” Isobel says, and Liz knocks into her, jovial. The knots in Michael’s stomach twist a little tighter. 

“Oh good, everyone’s here,” he hears, and there’s Kyle and Alex. Alex looks… really good. Like, really good. He shakes his head. That’s so not the point of tonight, in any way, and he wants to be an adult about this. Truly. 

“Getaway car?” Kyle asks, and Rosa points. 

“Around the corner, bro,” she says with a wink, and Kyle rolls his eyes. “So you two can come with me when we’re done here.” Liz starts to speak, then; as she recounts the plan for the five thousandth time, Michael leans into Alex.

“Yo, stay behind for a sec? I just gotta talk to you about something.” Alex looks surprised, but says nothing, nodding instead. “Cool, thanks.”

Alex shrugs, and Liz claps her hands. “Okay, team. Places!”

“This isn’t theater, Liz!” Rosa calls, and Kyle and Max laugh, already moving away. Isobel gives him a look, and he waves her off, looking up to the sky for something to give him strength. Maybe his mom is watching.

“So?” Alex stuffs his hands in his sweatshirt pocket. Michael’s stomach knots are bigger now that Alex is in front of him, and it’s just Alex, no one else, and Michael was such a dick not even three weeks ago, and Alex could _totally_ reject him. “Is everything okay? Should we be sharing this with everyone?”

“Okay, everyone, I’m turning mics on. Alex, get your ass to the van,” Rosa’s voice says through his earpiece. Alex huffs a little laugh, and Michael just blinks, mouth parted slightly.

“Michael?” Alex asks. “We don’t have a lot of time, okay?” Michael swallows, taking a deep breath, opening his mouth again, but his throat is dry and nothing comes out. Alex shakes his head. “I guess it can wait—”

“I love you,” Michael blurts out, _finally_ , blessedly, and Alex turns to him, eyes wide. That’s not really how he wanted it to go, but fuck it. He’s gonna go on. “I need you to know that. Before we do this, because I just feel like something could go wrong, and I needed to tell you before I walk into a building and maybe die that I love you. Present tense. Right now.”

“Michael…” Alex takes a step toward him, and Michael is praying Rosa turned the mics off and only she can hear, because this is too vulnerable for everyone else. But he grabs Alex’s hand, and looks him dead in the eye, and exhales.

“I loved you fourteen years ago, I love you now, I’ll love you fifty years from now, Alex, and it would be stupid of me to stand here while our lives are in danger and not say anything when all I’ve done is fuck this up.” Michael steps closer and finally chances a look at Alex; he’s smiling. 

“I think that’s kind of our thing,” Alex says, and Michael tilts his head. “Fucking up, you know?” And then he grabs Michael’s face and kisses him. It’s familiar and new all at the same time, but overwhelmingly, it feels like home. Alex feels like home. When Michael pulls away, Alex is still smiling; it’s small and soft, but he looks genuinely happy. It makes Michael feel happy. “I can’t believe you said this right now.”

“Yeah, well.” Michael shrugs, kissing him again. “When have I ever had good timing?”

“Alex, Michael, you better thank me for the rest of our fucking lives,” Rosa says into the earpieces. Alex flushes bright red, and Michael cackles. “Get to the van _now_.” 

Michael covers his mic for a moment. “I love you,” he says again, and Alex lights up. “Be safe, okay?” 

Alex nods. “You too.” He starts to walk away, but then he turns around, walks back, and kisses Michael one more time. “I love you too. I forgot to say that. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Just go,” Michael says, gentle. Alex laughs a little. “Rosa’s waiting.” So Alex does, and Michael watches him go, but it’s not permanent. He’s on the other side of the earpiece, waiting for them to get in, grab the shit, and get out. And he knows. 

“You done making out?” Max asks, coming out of nowhere, and Michael jumps. “We have some shit to do.”

##  _liz_

Liz changed her shoes five times before showing up here.

She’s standing at the side door that Jenna’s floor plan had pointed out with Michael as he unlocks this one, and she looks down at her shoes and thinks maybe, even though she changed them five times, that they’re still inadequate.

“Done,” Michael says, pulling the door open for her. “Don’t think so hard, Ortecho. I can hear you from all the way over there.” And then he’s gone, going off in the opposite direction as she takes the stairs to the basement storage. 

God, she’d planned for everything, and it still feels like it wasn’t enough.

She moves quietly, until there’s a crackling in her ear as she searches for her replacement object. “Liz, copy?”

“Yes?”

“Did you make it down the stairs?” Rosa asks. “Remember, it doesn’t have to be anything—”

“Fancy, I know.” Liz sighs, feet finding solid ground. “I made it.”

It’s dark and quiet, no security anywhere in sight. She grabs her flashlight, pointing it at the ground, and then slowly moving it up to a little bit in front of her. The knick-knacks and statues and mannequins that adorn the small hallway only add to the eerie feeling in her gut. It reminds her of when she broke into Grant Green’s storage; really, all she needs to do is remember how that night turned out for her bad feeling to turn worse.

She bumps into something, freezing, but when she turns her flashlight it’s just a mannequin. She lets out a quick sigh of relief, and continues on.

“Finally,” she whispers to herself, finding the old display items. There’s one box sticking out. She sets her flashlight down and tugs. It falls into her lap, and she grunts; it’s heavier than she thought. She touches her earpiece. “Alex, copy?”

“Liz, you okay?” he asks, and she feels relief at the sound of his voice. She wishes she’d had someone with her; though logically it’s better to be alone, the dark is not quite something she’s a fan of right now.

“Yeah, fine. This place hasn’t changed much, at least with how it's run, right?” She runs her hand over the weird alien mask, the plastic feel on her fingers grounding her.

“Liz, it’s Max, and it hasn’t,” Max confirms, and then the crackle disappears. Her heart leaps in her throat.

“Do you have a question about something?” 

Liz takes a deep breath. “Yeah. When you took something off display, was it usually right out in front when you put it back? Like was there a hierarchy of items?” Liz grabs the mask anyway, and pulls something off the top of the box next to her, placing it back. “Because if I put whatever was out before back on display—”

“No one will notice,” Alex finishes. “Yeah. Right to left as you’re walking further toward the end of that hallway toward the employee break room.”

Liz cheers internally. “Thanks. Over.” She stuffs the box back in, grabbing her flashlight. She’s got to get out of this creepy basement as soon as she can. Now, suddenly, she feels grateful for her running shoes. She moves a little faster, making her way to the stairs; she can see a faint glow underneath the door leading back toward the exhibits, and she breathes in, breathes out. Isobel says something over the comms to Michael, but she doesn’t listen. She pushes the door open, turning to her left, and lets out a scream.

##  _kyle_

The energy in the getaway car is… weird. 

Rosa looks like there’s been words on the tip of her tongue for the entire thirty minutes they’ve been sitting here so far, and Alex won’t look up from where he’s monitoring security cameras on his laptop. 

Kyle didn’t realize how boring this part was going to be. Now that the excitement of the planning was done, all he _can_ do is wait. And if he’s being honest, he’s hoping it stays boring. If he’s doing something from this point on, it means someone is hurt. 

Kyle covers the mic attached to his earpiece, so hopefully no one else hears him say, “Okay, _what_ is going on?” 

Rosa does something with a knob on her panel, and then doesn’t cover her own mic when she finally talks. “They’re off, don’t worry. I’ll flip them back on when we’re needed. What do you mean?” 

“It feels like you guys know something I don’t and the longer we sit here the longer I’m worried that we’re extremely fucked and you just don’t want me to know.” 

“Alex, copy?” Kyle hears Isobel’s voice, staticky over his earpiece. Rosa does something, and then Alex responds. 

Kyle listens while the two of them go back and forth about security cameras, and in front of him, Rosa looks eager to respond as soon as she’s able. 

“Earlier when I turned our mics on, I may have overheard—” Rosa starts, but Alex cuts her off. 

“ _Rosa_ ,” he says, sharp. 

“Oh?” Kyle says. He thinks back to earlier, because he’d spent most of the afternoon _with_ Alex, except for— “ _Oh_ , when I was giving supplies to Liz, you and Guerin… Do I have to kill him?” 

Alex has been so tense, so hyper focused the entire time they’ve been waiting in the car, so it makes sense that maybe— 

He sort of wants to be wrong, for once. 

“No, that’s Alex’s happy face,” Rosa says, and she sounds _delighted_. It feels like a conversation they might’ve had in high school if he hadn’t been so self-involved. A pang of guilt hits him, it’s always when he least expects it, and he _knows_ Alex has forgiven him for all of that, knows that it’s 12 years in the past, but when he thinks about all of the things he could’ve done differently, he always goes back to that. They may all be in their 30s, but he considers himself lucky that he gets to have this now. 

The car is dark, but not dark enough to hide the way Alex flushes a bright pink at Rosa’s words. “Guerin and I are… good.”

“Understatement of the _century_ , Alex.” Rosa rolls her eyes and turns to face Kyle. “I’d just turned the mics on and ended up accidentally overhearing a love confession twelve years in the making.” She says it all in one breath to get it out before Alex inevitably tries to shut it down again. But it’s too late for that; Kyle spins around to look at Alex. 

“Is she serious?” he asks, but he knows she has to be. None of them would joke about that, much less right in front of Alex. Alex nods and tries to hide his face behind the laptop screen. “Dude, look at me,” Kyle says, snapping his fingers in front of Alex’s face. When Alex looks up, he’s smiling. It’s his real smile, too, Kyle knows that because he’s seen enough of the fake ones to be able to tell. “I’m happy for you.” 

“Thanks, Kyle,” Alex says. “We basically didn’t talk about anything, but we’re… together. I think. We didn’t really figure that out either. It was more of an I hope you don’t die kind of conversation.” 

“I told you all he needed was some more time,” Rosa says. “I really didn’t want to be like ‘I told you so,’ but I do want it on the record that I was right.” 

Kyle laughs and Alex opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get the words out all hell breaks loose on the comms— Liz screams and Isobel sounds concerned— and Kyle snaps back into doctor mode like the last five minutes hadn’t even happened. 

##  _isobel_

The UFO Emporium is, while closed, the creepiest thing in existence, Isobel decides. She’s making her way through the perimeter with Max, his stance _pure_ cop, even though he’s been off the force a while now. She breaks off from him at a certain point, heading up to a catwalk near the ceiling so she can break out onto the roof with part of the tech that Max and Michael will hand her. She feels good about this, like maybe they really will pull this off.

Liz asks some things through the comms, and everything is fairly uneventful, and Isobel thinks they’ll get through this without a hitch. And then she spots a shadowy figure coming up behind Max. “Oh, no,” she whispers, and then before she can call out, Max is hit over the head. “Shit!” 

She ducks, and when the guy looks up, he doesn’t see her. She lets out a sigh of relief, but then she hears Liz’s footsteps coming up the stairs from storage. Evidently, the man hears it too, because he turns away from Max and starts his journey to get Liz. _Fuck._ She follows the guy slowly, making sure to keep her steps quiet as she descends from the catwalk. “Michael, copy?” she says into her mic, and there’s nothing. “Michael, copy!”

Liz screams, and the man tries to grab her. Isobel grabs something from her left and runs at him, swinging. She hits him over the head, and he drops, but she spots someone else coming from the right. “Liz, we have to go,” she says, grabbing Liz’s arm. “Come on.”

They run to where Max is, sitting up slowly and rubbing his head. “Iz?” he says, and Liz runs to him.

“Max, are you okay?” Liz asks, falling to her knees in front of him. She takes his face in her hands, and he looks up at her, a little confused. “Isobel, what happened?”

“What is going _on,_ guys?” Kyle sounds exasperated. “You can’t just yell into the comms and not answer us.”

“Excuse us for being a little preoccupied, _Kyle_ ,” Isobel snaps, pulling Max up. “Liz, Max, take it outside and run. I’m gonna find Michael.”

“What do you _mean_ , find Michael?” Max and Alex say at the same time, though Alex’s voice in her ear is loud and screechy. She winces, shaking her head. “Is he okay?” Max asks, and she shrugs.

“Go, _now_ ,” she urges, grabbing the replacement display from Liz, and all but pushing them toward the back entrance. They run, and she slaps the mask down, looking around. “Michael?” _No response_. She reaches out, to see if she can feel _something_ , anything about where he could be, and when she finds it, she runs.

She’s tearing through the museum, finding a closed off exhibit with a chair and fake doctor tools and she finds Michael on the ground, Flint Manes and another man standing over him, looking far too gleeful to be doing anything.

“I swear, it’s just me here!” Michael is saying, but he looks at Isobel and she nods, moving the examination table with her mind to knock into the man behind Flint.

“Fuck!” he yells, and Michael jumps up, punching Flint in the face, and then his face crumples.

“You _asshole_!” Flint yells, and Isobel knocks him unconscious, flinging him into the back wall.

“Iz, my finger,” Michael whines, and when she grabs his wrist, he yelps. “Iz!”

“We will deal with your broken finger later,” she snaps, looking at Flint and grabbing his hand, manipulating the events in his head so that he remembers very little. She doesn’t particularly like being in his head; she can spot the influence from Jesse a mile away, and she hates it, just a little bit. She pulls back, shaking her head. “Come on, Michael. Let’s go.”

“Michael?!” Alex says, and Michael relaxes into Isobel’s side. She laughs a little, and they exit the museum. “Michael, copy?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Michael says. “We’re headed your way now.”

There’s a sigh of relief from someone, and as they amble slowly toward the getaway car, even though a ton of shit went wrong, Isobel is sure it could’ve gone much, _much_ worse, and instead of broken finger Michael could’ve been injured _way_ more. She spots Liz, and Max, and then Kyle is throwing the door of the van open, yelling, “Get in, before one of them wakes up!” and she laughs.

Maybe one day they won’t have something batshit happen in Roswell, but for now, she pushes Michael into Alex and Kyle’s arms, jumps in the back, closes her eyes, and smiles.

##  _alex_

It’s pretty much chaos as soon as everything is finished. Alex doesn’t know what he expected— peace, maybe? Some silence for the first time in weeks? They’re all piled in the van, still a few minutes out from Max’s place. Everyone is talking over each other, and Alex can’t follow a single conversation that’s happening, but he finally feels calm knowing that everyone is okay— that Michael is okay. He’s been in situations before where people weren’t answering their comms and a cold panic washes over you because you automatically assume the worst; most of the time, it ended up being okay, but he’s never been on the other end when it was his boyfriend giving them dead silence. He had good reason to be anxious, but he’s more than happy to let that pit in his stomach unravel now that he’s safe, Michael’s safe, and their family is safe. 

He shuts his laptop for the first time in what feels like three weeks and closes his eyes, leaning back against the headrest. He’s content to just listen for now. 

Michael is up front with Kyle doing something to his broken finger, but he keeps looking back and smiling over at Alex. It’s been a long time since Alex has been someone’s boyfriend, so this feeling is familiar and new all at once. He smiles back, though, every single time. 

They unload once they reach Max’s; Maria left the Pony as soon as they gave her a signal so she’s already waiting. There are plans for a debrief, but not tonight. Alex had offered up the hunting cabin earlier this week, because no matter what the outcome of tonight would be, there would probably be some kind of drinking afterwards. He’s just glad it’s going to be celebratory and not miserable. 

Alex has a lot more than just winning to celebrate tonight. 

Before everyone splits off to drive up to the cabin, they’re all standing outside Max’s house to figure out who is going with who and how many cars they should take. Considering they just planned and pulled off a _heist_ , this part is taking longer than it should. Liz is still holding onto the tech and she’s grinning widely; Alex suspects she won’t let go of it until it’s safely stored underneath the cabin. Michael is standing across from Alex the haphazard circle they’d formed and they lock eyes. 

“Alex and I are together,” Michael blurts out. Alex feels more than one pair of eyes on him, but he’s still not looking anywhere but at the person across from him. “So. I’m driving up with Alex. Please leave us alone. Uh, no further questions.” 

“I actually have a lot of questions,” Isobel says, which makes Alex laugh. She sways to her left to bump shoulders with Michael. “I will ask all of them _later_ ,” she adds after Michael glares at her. 

Aside from Kyle and Rosa, who Alex already knew were aware, Max doesn’t look all that surprised either. Maria and Liz do, though, and they both shoot him questioning looks. He’ll explain later, because they’re his best friends, and they deserve that. Right now, though, Alex just wants to be alone with Michael for the first time since they’d split up before the heist.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” Maria says. She sounds so genuine even though there’s still a part of Alex that wouldn’t have been surprised if Maria took a little time to get used to this after everything that had happened between her and Michael and the subsequent fallout from that breakup. Instead, she’s smiling and Alex doesn’t need superpowers to tell that she means it. 

“Thank you, Maria,” Michael says, and then he crosses their sorta-circle and grabs Alex’s arm. “You guys can stand here all you want, but we are leaving now.”

“Bye?” Alex laughs, and lets himself be pulled toward his truck. There’s a mischievous glint in Michael’s eye, and when they finally get there, Michael kisses Alex hard, pushing him against the door. Alex’s back makes contact directly with the door handle and he yelps, breaking the kiss. He didn’t mean to, the kiss was _good_ , but Michael doesn’t even seem phased, leaning in for another kiss as soon as Alex’s back is against a flatter part of the door. No one can see them, or at least he _hopes_ no one can see them, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if they did. 

“Hey,” Alex says in between kisses. He pulls back slightly and Michael moves his lips to Alex’s neck. “We should probably go.”

“Or we could just stay here.” Michael takes a few steps back, but looks content to go again as soon as Alex stops talking. 

Alex rolls his eyes playfully. “No, c’mon. We’ll go to the cabin,” he says, punctuating it with a kiss. “We’ll hang out with everyone for a little while.” Another kiss. “And then, I have a bedroom. Or an underground bunker with a bed in it.” 

“Hm,” Michael hums. “Very romantic.” 

“Yeah, obviously.” Alex leans in for one more kiss before he takes his keys out and unlocks the truck. “Lets go.” 

Two weeks ago, sitting in his truck and driving down these deserted, dark highways with Michael in the passenger seat would have been unbearable. Two _days_ ago, it felt like an impossibility altogether. It shouldn’t be surprising that today it’s the easiest thing in the world, but it is _so_ easy. _This silence should be uncomfortable_ , he thinks; it’s not, though. The radio is playing quietly and Michael is sitting next to him and this is everything he could have asked for at 17— it only took until 30 to get it. 

Michael shifts and reaches across the console for one of the ice packs Kyle gave him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Michael pop it and wrap it around his broken finger. 

(It’s his left hand, Alex’s brain supplies unhelpfully.)

“How did that happen, anyway?” Alex asks. He’d heard the commotion over the comms, and he’s sure someone must have said it in the van ride to Max’s, but he wasn’t really listening. 

“I punched your brother in the face.” 

Alex snorts, taken aback by the bluntness of the answer. He shouldn’t be, that’s just how Michael is, but those words strung together startle a laugh out of him.

“He deserved it, Alex!” Michael protests. 

“You really don’t have to justify that to me,” Alex says. “I’m sure he did.” 

He knows they’re not all clear yet; if anything, Flint is going to push back harder than ever after this, but Alex is more prepared than ever to fight.

“Haven’t thrown a punch in a while, though,” Michael takes the ice off his hand and flexes it. “Fuck, that hurts.” 

“You should just let Max heal it this time.” Michael responds with a noncommittal hum, so Alex knows he probably _won’t_ let Max heal it, at least not right away. 

On the way to the cabin, they pass an empty field. It’s just one empty field among a string of them, but that one was a spot they’d go during those three perfect months before he left for the Academy. He doesn’t know if Michael would even remember the specifics, but Alex thinks about it every time he drives up here— who they were, what they could be, and today, what they are. 

He’s still a little bit giddy just thinking about it. 

“Hey,” Michael says, pulling Alex out of his own head and back to reality. 

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t just go AWOL on us again, okay? You’re not allowed.” 

“I hope I don’t have to.”

“No, I mean it. You can’t just disappear anymore. Whatever it is, we do it together.”

“I promised you a long time ago that I’d keep you safe,” Alex says. 

“You have,” Michael says. Alex opens his mouth to protest how fundamentally untrue that is— he could present multiple kidnappings as proof— but Michael keeps going. “I trust you, so if something’s up or you find something a little bit off, tell me. Don’t desert your friends to gather intel.” 

“I _am_ really sorry about that,” Alex sighs. “I don’t know if I ever said that but I—” 

“Don’t. You don’t have to. Just don’t do it again.” 

Alex nods and tears his eyes away from the road for one second to glance at Michael. Alex feels 17 and 23 and 30 all at once, suddenly overwhelmed by thinking, not for the first time tonight, that he’s been in love with Michael for as long as he can remember. There hasn’t been a time in twelve years where that wasn’t a part of who he was, and for so much of that time, all it did was cause a lot of pain. 

But now when he looks at Michael in his passenger seat, looking back at him, all he can think about is what comes next. 

**Author's Note:**

> a is on tumblr at backinmybodymp3 and g is on tumblr at adamsparirsh!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Art] Planning a Heist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28042797) by [lychee_jelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lychee_jelly/pseuds/lychee_jelly)




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